


Wasn’t Expecting That

by StarrySkies282



Series: Heaven Help a Fool Who Falls in Love [1]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Developing Relationship, F/F, Fluff and Angst, Girls Kissing, Hurt/Comfort, I just love these two okay, Implied Sexual Content, May develop into a series, Natasha Romanov Feels, Steve Rogers is a mum, i suck at summaries, wanda maximoff is adorable
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-16
Updated: 2019-07-16
Packaged: 2020-06-29 15:55:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,721
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19833514
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/StarrySkies282/pseuds/StarrySkies282
Summary: It’s not that Natasha hates her particularly, it’s more that she doesn’t trust her. She’s never been one to trust easily, always keeping herself closely guarded. Except maybe around Clint. Over time, she’s learnt to trust Tony and Steve and Thor and Bruce. But with Wanda, it’s harder. Not least because of what she did. What she’s seen. What she put Natasha through. After what she was forced to remember. A reminder of how she could never truly shake her past. Never quite leave who she used to be behind.They’re learning. Natasha learns to let Wanda in.





	Wasn’t Expecting That

It’s not that Natasha hates her particularly, it’s more that she doesn’t trust her. She’s never been one to trust easily, always keeping herself closely guarded. Except maybe around Clint. Over time, she’s learnt to trust Tony and Steve and Thor and Bruce. But with Wanda, it’s harder. Not least because of what she did. What she’s seen. What she put Natasha through. After what she was forced to remember. A reminder of how she could never truly shake her past. Never quite leave who she used to be behind.

She had reopened the void to the chasm of nightmares of the Red Room, of faceless victims, of torture, of pain.

So Natasha tried her hardest to avoid Wanda.

Except that Steve insists she helps with her training, which means she’s forced to spend more time around her than she’d like. But she buries her feelings like always.

Natasha remains as distant as possible, trying to avoid any extra conversation or interaction not related to helping Wanda perfect her fighting technique. Her walls are up, she is a fortress, an island.

And Wanda doesn’t overtly try to press Natasha to make conversation either, justifies Natasha, as though she knows.

_Of course she knows_ , thinks Natasha bitterly. _She can read my goddamn mind._

But somewhere along the line, during this routine of training in silence, avoiding each other after, Natasha begins to draw parallels between them: Both taken by regimes. Both experimented on. Forced and trained to fight. So much loss.

Still, how could she trust her? Natasha argued with herself. Not after that incident at the ship yard.

All the same, she can’t help but feel sorry for the girl: she’d lost her brother, the last and only family she had had.

Just like Natasha she had lost everything, was alone. At least, Natasha was until Clint had come along.

It doesn’t help that Wanda is always apologetic. Not in words, but in actions. A tentative half-smile when they meet for morning training. Passing her the salt across the table. Offering Natasha a hand when she finally manages to knock her down. Their hands staying linked just a little too long after Natasha finally accepts it.

It surprises Natasha.

Wanda trying to meet her eyes, Natasha desperately trying not to. She fails.

Shit.

Those big, blue eyes meet hers, and Natasha just stands there.

“That’s enough training for today I think,” says Natasha, recovering from whatever the hell just happened.

Why didn’t she swat Wanda’s hand away?

She was letting her guard down.

_Never show weakness, Natalia._

_You’re made of marble._

The echoes of the Red Room flit around her head.

She shakes her head, trying to clear them, and leaves the training room, watching Wanda’s retreating form.

* * *

Another time, Natasha doesn’t know what possesses her. She’s in the kitchen early one morning, the others are all asleep, back late from a mission that went slightly awry the night before.

She winces as she reaches for the coffee.

Her joints ache.

Why did Steve always have to put it up so high?

“Let me,” says an accented voice from behind her. Wanda.

“No, it’s—“

“You are hurt,” the brunette replies firmly.

_Her hair really is a nice colour_ , thinks Natasha, watching it as it falls in soft waves around her face. Natasha rolls her eyes internally. _Get it together Romanoff._

She hands Nat the coffee.

“Thanks,” says Natasha, not as coldly as she would have wanted. She even smiles at her. Genuinely.

Wanda reciprocates, her whole face lighting up, and Natasha notices her own elevated heart rate, and, she’s willing to bet, Wanda’s. She can’t help but think Wanda looks adorable in that moment.

What has she done.

She wants to know Wanda, wants to be able to like her, really she does, but it’s just not possible. She also wonders why Wanda still even wants to try after what she saw in her head. Anyone else would have run scared, kept their distance. Because Natasha is a monster.

“Are you going to make that coffee?” Asks Wanda, her tone light, bringing Natasha back to Earth, back to the little, well apparently not so little problem in front of her.

“Right,” says Natasha tersely.

She makes two mugs. Because Natasha is not petty. And of course, because she doesn’t dislike Wanda Maximoff. It’s just trust she has a problem with.

“Thanks,” says Wanda, accepting the mug from Natasha.

“No problem,” returns Natasha, although really, there is. And the pretty little Sokovian in front of her is not helping.

She decides there’s been enough interaction for one day, and decides to head back to her room, leaving Wanda alone in the kitchen.

She almost feels bad.

* * *

It’s late and Natasha is still awake.

Well, that’s not exactly completely accurate. She was asleep. Until the nightmares came.

_Dancing, toes raw, limbs aching, blisters forming on her feet._

_“Again.”_

_She hears the command._

_“Resting is for the weak. Here, we are not weak. There is no place for the weak.”_

_She obeys._

_A man, a gun, a girl._

_Lying, strapped to a bed. A nurse leans over her. Gloved fingers, a needle in one hand. Darkness. Pain._

_“I am a monster.”_

_“Yes, you are.”_

_“Fight,” she says._

_Natalia does._

_Blood glistens in the snow._

_It’s Wanda lying there._

_You will always be ours, Natalia._

And she wakes, arms flailing, trying to fight off the invisible enemies, breathing hard, shaking uncontrollably. The wetness on her face tells her she’s been crying. She doesn’t care. There is only one thing she can think of now. Or rather, only one person.

It takes all her strength to stand, but she manages it, knocking faintly on Wanda’s door.

She has to make sure she’s okay. That she’s not hurt. It’s all her fault. That’s why she can’t be close to her. It had, Natasha finally had to admit to herself, nothing to do anymore with trust. Sure, Natasha would be wary of her, but she had been around Wanda long enough to know she wasn’t a bad person. She’d just done bad things. Because it had been her only option. Just like it had been for... _No_ , Natasha decides. She couldn’t say the same for herself. _Monster_. The word echoes in her head. It burns, like a brand. But it’s true.

A small, rational part of Natasha’s mind wants to say it was only a dream. That Wanda is fine, probably still asleep. And why should Natasha worry anyway, when she’s the reason she’s having nightmares again after all. But instead, here she is.

“Natasha?” Wanda blinks, opening the door. She can feel the pain radiating off her, the remnants of her nightmare still visible to Wanda. She doesn’t want to see them, really, she doesn’t. It feels like a violation, to see all these thoughts, these raw feelings people keep locked away. It’s already cost her a chance of being a friend to Natasha. She just can’t quite get a hold of all these powers yet.

“Nat?” Asks Wanda again, concerned. “Are you alright?” She knows the answer will be in the negative.

Her eyes darken as she sees Natasha stumble. She’s still shaking. Wanda doesn’t have time to question Natasha: she leads her to the bed before she collapses to the floor.

“Nightmares,” says Natasha finally.

Wanda knows how to deal with those. She’s had her fair share.

“I know. Dreams are projected,” explains Wanda, apologetically. “I can’t control it all yet.” She finishes, quietly, fully expecting Natasha’s rage to descend upon her.

She is utterly surprised by the reaction she gets.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to wake you...” she trails off, why did she even come here in the first place?

“Hey,” says Wanda, squeezing Natasha’s hand, as though it’s the most natural thing in the world for Natasha, who Wanda knows hates her, to be sitting there in her room, seeking comfort from her.

The pressure slightly calms Natasha, knowing Wanda is there, still alive, not lying in the snow somewhere in Russia, bullet holes littering her body. She’s safe.

“Don’t be sorry, if anyone should be, it’s me,” continued Wanda, “I think you would not be in this position now if I hadn’t— if I hadn’t messed with your mind.”

She holds Natasha close, like Pietro used to do for her, making sure she knew she was safe. Tentatively she reaches up to play with Natasha’s hair, remembering how much that used to calm her, hoping it was the same with Natasha.

“I’m right here. Nothing’s going to hurt you.” There’s something comforting about Wanda’s voice, its mellow tone, and Natasha wholeheartedly wants to believe she’ll be safe now.

“But you, Wanda, are _you_ safe?” Chokes out Natasha, gripping Wanda’s hand like a lifeline. If it hurts, Wanda doesn’t say.

And suddenly, Wanda sees the image of herself lying there in the snow. She tries not to react to it, for Natasha’s sake. But even this vulnerable, Natasha sees the expression fleeting across her face.

“I know what you saw,” she says, trying to even out her breathing. She’s exposed herself too much already. _Get a grip, Romanoff_. But she’s just so tired.

“You don’t have to do this alone, Nat.”

Wanda stays beside her, and slowly, sobs become stilled.

“I thought I had buried it all,” she says finally, voice not entirely steady. “Thought I had learnt to control it. To learn not to let it affect me. But sometimes...”

“I’m sorry you had to relive it. I’m sorry I made you.”

Natasha shakes her head and takes a deep breath. “It would have happened regardless, would have caught up with me at some point. It’s not your fault. You thought you were doing right. Like I once did...” She says. _Damn it Romanoff, you’ve got yourself into a predicament._

Wanda blinks in the soft light.

“Thank you for that,” says Wanda gratefully, even though shes sure she’s supposed to be the one providing comfort, not receiving it.

Natasha gives her a small smile. It’s weak, but genuine.

“And thank you for letting me in,” continues Wanda. “Even when I know you didn’t want to. I’m glad you did. I hope it’s— i hope it’s helped,” she finishes awkwardly.

“It has,” admits Natasha truthfully. Of course, the nightmares won’t stop, but right now, knowing Wanda is there helps.

Green eyes meet blue, and a silent understanding passes between them.

And then Wanda is moving impossibly closer to Natasha, so close that Natasha can smell the shampoo she uses. Natasha knows she should move, that she should stop this, that this will be her undoing, but she doesn’t. She can’t bring herself to.

And then Wanda’s lips meet hers and their world’s darken, nothing else existing except each other. Natasha’s lips are soft and warm against Wanda’s, how Wanda imagined them to be, and she realises how long she has wanted to do this.

Delicate, it feels natural.

Then Natasha pulls back, head cocked to one side.

_Shit. Was it too soon? Had she ruined everything? Natasha had come here for comfort after a nightmare, and she had just kissed her. Would she think she was just taking advantage of her? She doesn’t want her to think that way, not after she knows what Natasha’s been through._

“I’m sorry, Natasha, that was—“

Natasha lets out a little laugh, surprising Wanda.

“Don’t be sorry, little witch, I just wasn’t expecting that.”

“I surprised the great Black Widow?” Jokes Wanda.

“Yeah, yeah,” says Natasha, kissing her back.

* * *

It’s been a long week. They’ve both been on separate missions, haven’t seen each other properly since that night. For Natasha, it’s sort of a relief. It gives her time to think, to assess the situation.

Yes, she has to acknowledge that there is a feeling there for Wanda— and she knows Wanda shares it.

She’s managing to put her issues with trusting her to rest. Little by little.

As much as she wants to run with it, it’s all new to her. She’s never really done this before. Had a chance at love that wasn’t for a mission. That wasn’t just to get close to someone and then kill them.

If they’re going to do this, Natasha decides, she’ll make sure it’s done right.

She’s realised she’s filled with a longing— a desperate longing— to see the little witch again. She thinks of Wanda’s voice, of their lips together, the feel of Wanda’s hand in hers. _God, that girl will be my undoing_ , thinks Natasha when Steve finally manages to rouse her from her thoughts because their suspect is on the move.

And Wanda? Well Wanda’s never been more sure of what she wants. Truth be told, she’s wanted to kiss the Widow since she first met her. She can hardly wait for this week to be over, to see Nat, to hear her voice once again.

“Hey stranger,” says Natasha to Wanda whilst she’s lying in the Medbay. “How’ve you been?”

“Missing you,”retorts Wanda, “and what do I find— you’ve tried to get yourself _killed_.”

“It’s just a mild concussion,” protests Natasha.

“ _Mild_?” Snorts Wanda, “You’ve been out for almost two days.”

“I’ve had worse,” shrugs Natasha. It’s true, but she still tries not to wince. Everything’s still sore.

Wanda rolls her eyes at the redheaded idiot she’s missed so much this week. “Well you should see what you’ve done to Steve,” she argues. “He’s been wandering round the compound muttering to himself about what you’d like to eat when you finally woke up. So far he has made waffles, lasagne, apple pie, blinis, pizza, and I think he’s currently working on steaks.”

Natasha rolls her eyes: _honestly, Steve fusses too much._

“Idiot,” Natasha mutters to herself, but she’s smiling.

And Wanda leans down to plant a kiss on Natasha’s forehead, sending sparks down her spine as she breathes in Wanda’s perfume.

“I missed you too, milaya,” she says quietly into the brunette’s hair.

When Natasha is up and about— sooner than she should have been, swearing up and down that she’s fine, Wanda is nowhere to be found. Her and Sam are on a recon mission, Steve explains. They’ll be back that evening, he tells her, while forcing some leftover lasagne on her. Her knows her weakness for it, but she accepts it gratefully.

“Hey little witch,” she says, surprising Wanda in the corridor later that night.

“Natasha!” Squeaks Wanda, “you’re supposed to be still resting, in the Medbay

“Yeah, well, it’s not very interesting there without you. I can go back, if you’d prefer,” says Natasha, raising an eyebrow as she reaches the door to her room, pushing it open.

Wanda shakes her head violently. She doesn’t want to be apart from Natasha. Ever.

“Easy, milaya,” croons Natasha softly. “We wouldn’t want you to have a concussion now would we?”

Maybe Natasha shouldn’t— shouldn’t give Wanda hope where there is none. Because who could ever love the Black Widow? But she does it anyway, closing the distance between them as they stand in the doorway of her bedroom, lips meeting. It feels good, natural, like nothing she’s ever experienced. _Real_ , she thinks.

And then Wanda is pulling her even closer, mere inches between them, her fingers tangling in Natasha’s hair, gaining a contented sigh from the assassin.

They tumble backwards onto Natasha’s bed, a tangle of limbs, breathy moans escaping them. Red and brown hair pool together, illuminated by the sliver of moonlight seeping through the windows. Soft kisses and they melt into each other. The waves of emotion crash over them, neither of them wanting this moment to end.

Natasha wakes in the stillness of the early morning as the rays of light illuminate Wanda’s hair, making her marvel at the way there is so much more to the brunette colour she first saw— slight red hues, a few blonde where the sun’s rays hit directly.

Wanda is lying curled into Natasha’s side, arms wrapped around her protectively. Natasha dares not move lest she wakes her.

She looks so peaceful, she notes, seeing the soft expression on her face.

She could get used to that. To this. To _them_.

“I wasn’t expecting that,” came Wanda’s voice as her eyes lazily flutter open.

And Natasha can hear the smile in her voice.

**Author's Note:**

> Ahhhh I really enjoyed writing this... I love these two so much and I hope you all enjoyed reading this :) I’d really like to hear what you thought about this as I’ll be (hopefully) continuing this as a series kinda showing the development of their relationship. Anyway, thanks for reading x


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